


we had a good run, even i have to admit

by softiechannie



Series: strawberry kisses [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mentioned Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Relationships, a prequel-ish to strawberry kisses, could be read seperately idk, unhealthy verkwan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 13:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12888831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softiechannie/pseuds/softiechannie
Summary: seungkwan doesn’t want to leave hansol like this, but he hopes the memories and the thousands of ink-covered pages will suffice.





	we had a good run, even i have to admit

 

seungkwan sat on the couch, lazily playing with hansol’s hair, who was resting on seungkwan’s thighs and slowly falling asleep. he stared at the tv screen, although he wasn’t sure what was even on, he could barely focus on it. he sighed, brushing his hair out of his eyes, looking down at hansol. he’d gotten a haircut that day, seungkwan missed it when it was longer, but there wasn’t much he could do. he barely had the energy to care about what hansol did anymore, all he did anyway was let himself be consumed by the pages of the hundreds of notebooks he’d gone through. seungkwan never understood why he always kept them even after every last inch of paper was full. he didn’t care to learn the answer, he rarely thought about hansol’s goddamn poetry anyway, and if he did, it made him irrationally angry, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why, but that didn’t really matter to him. he felt hansol shift, rolling over a little to look up at seungkwan, his eyes half open.

  
“hey,” hansol said, smiling, he sat up and rested on seungkwan’s shoulder, “what’re you thinking about?” he asked, his arms around seungkwan’s neck.

  
“nothing,” seungkwan replied, his words icier than he had intended, but, for some reason, he didn’t regret it.

  
“jesus, sorry,” hansol said, pulling away, slouching, he wasn’t even touching seungkwan anymore. the two just sat there like that for a while, the only sound being the low tones of the tv.

  
“i didn’t mean it like that,” seungkwan said after a while, breaking the horribly uncomfortable near silence, seemingly splitting it in two with his voice.

  
“sure, seungkwan,” hansol spat, “you always say that,” he added, lower. “why can’t we have just one conversation where you don’t start being a dick for no reason?” he asked, although it didn’t seem like much of a question.

  
“i said one word-”

  
“it’s how you said it, that’s what matters, not what you said,” hansol interjected, stopping seungkwan’s words in their tracks.

  
“god, you sound like my mother or some shit.”

  
“fuck off.”

 

  
the air around them was still, as if it didn’t dare move. the two were a minefield, just waiting to explode, destroying everything in their wake. hansol got up, walking to their bedroom.

  
“are you gonna write more of your fucking poetry? jesus christ, hansol, why do you even bother?” seungkwan said, raising his voice. “it’s not like anyone cares,” he added, a bit quieter, but he didn’t count on hansol still being in earshot.

  
“you used to care,” he said, walking back into the living room, his voice low and dull, “or, at least i think you did. i don’t know anymore.”

  
“hansol… i…” seungkwan began, but he couldn’t finish, he didn’t know what he was going to say. “i’m sorry, i do care, i just…” he said, standing up, walking towards hansol, his head hanging low.

  
“save it,” hansol said, “you’re not the guy i used to write about anymore,” he said, laughing humourlessly. “what happened to us, seungkwan?” he asked, his voice breaking, a wave of tears building in his eyes.

  
“i don’t know,” seungkwan breathed, his shoulders limp, his face expressionless. hansol was quite a contrast, his cheeks were red and his eyes matched, tears spilling down his face.

  
“i can’t believe i loved you, i can’t believe i still love you,” hansol said, trying to contain his sobs but they kept bubbling up in his throat. “i’m gonna get my stuff, i’ll be at cheol’s,” he said, walking away. seungkwan slumped back on the couch, defeated, everything felt surreal. he didn’t mean for this to happen, or did he? he wasn’t sure anymore.

 

 

about half an hour later, seungkwan heard hansol’s light footsteps on the scuffed, wooden floors, the sound of hollow rolling following him. seungkwan looked up to see him, he had a bag slung over his shoulder and another trailing behind him.

  
“don’t go looking for me,” he said, opening the front door, and seungkwan stood up.

  
“i’m sorry,” he said, “it was good while it lasted.”

  
“i know.” hansol stepped out the door for a moment, looking behind him at seungkwan. “also, keep the notebooks if you want, i don’t want them,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. his eyes were red and puffy, but he smiled weakly at seungkwan. he kissed his cheek quickly as seungkwan heard a car horn. “goodbye, seungkwan.”

  
“goodbye, hansol.”


End file.
